


Call Me Irresponsible [JDM/JA]

by madame_meretrix (laisserais)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisserais/pseuds/madame_meretrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt</b>: This was written in answer to <span><a href="http://poisontaster.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://poisontaster.livejournal.com/"><b>poisontaster</b></a></span>'s prompt: <i>JDM/JA. Jeff's mom and Jensen's mom are friends; Jensen needs a place to stay while he's in town looking at colleges (up to you whether it's grad or undergrad) and Jeff's mom volunteers him. Jeff didn't think it would be a big problem...until he lays eyes on Jensen.</i><b>Beta</b>: <span></span><a href="http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/"><b>thatotherperv</b></a><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Irresponsible [JDM/JA]

  


* * *

  


  
**Call Me Irresponsible**   


"I knew you'd forget," she says, and then sighs. Jeff waits for it. "Oh _Jeffrey_."

His mom is good at a lot of things: roasting a turkey big enough to feed a dozen people, repurposing just about anything into a flower vase, reupholstering furniture. But the thing she's best at in the world is packing a few tiny syllables with the full weight of her disappointment. She says, "Oh _Jeffrey_." What she means is, "I can't believe my only son and heir has managed to get this far in life without any kind of meaningful employment, relationships or responsibility. When was the last time you woke up before noon?"

"Well," she continues. "He'll be there within the hour. May I suggest you pick up a little? Maybe even find some clean sheets? If it's not too much trouble."

Jeff just hums into the phone, unwilling to explain for the six-hundredth time that, in fact, he runs a very successful company. She's never been able to get the hang of the internet, and in her opinion, anyone who works in his pajamas and plays video games for a living can't possibly be responsible.

She's undeterred by his lack of response. "Jensen's a nice boy. You remember him, don't you? From Mrs. Ackles' social functions."

He doesn't remember Jensen, unless Jensen was the small brown blur who used to hide under the table and steal Jeff's cake. Mostly what Jeff remembers from the Ackles' house is floral wallpaper and having to wear a tie. "Sure, Mom. I'll make sure he feels at home." He nudges a beer can with his foot. Bisou cocks her head at the noise, and then lays back down. "Why's he out here, again?"

"I wish you'd write these things down. If you can't remember personal details, darling, how do you ever expect to get ahead in life? Jensen is looking at UCLA. I can't believe how time flies; it seems like only yesterday you were leaving the nest."

Jeff grunts. That's something he does agree with. It's hard to believe that he's almost thirty.

"Well dear, I have to go. Please try and remember the social graces this weekend?"

"When have I ever forgotten?" Jeff smirks when his mom laughs, startled. "Love you," he says, and then, "What's his name again?"

"Oh _Jeffrey._ "

Jeff smiles as he hangs up.

"Well, if we're having company, guess we should get started on this pigsty, huh?" Bisou looks him askance. "Yeah. Wonder if there's time to call a maid service."

*

All of the recycling's in--or at least, near--the can, and the living room looks fairly presentable. Jeff's running a hand over his beard, contemplating a shave, when the doorbell rings.

When his mom had first brought up the idea of Mrs. Ackles' kid coming to visit for a weekend to look at schools, Jeff had conjured up a vague set of memories, mostly involving a shy little boy, one incident of paste eating, and the aforementioned cake stealing.

The guy standing in his doorway is nothing like Jeff remembers.

"Uh, hi," Jensen says. So, ok, maybe he's still shy. Jeff hopes he doesn't still eat paste.

He opens the door wide and thinks that if Jensen wants to steal his cake, he wouldn't mind. "Hey. Jensen, right?"

"Yeah," Jensen says, and he smiles. Jeff's knees get a little weak. He clears his throat.

"Come on in."

Bisou arrives to investigate and Jensen kneels down to pet her. "That's Bisou," he says by way of explanation.

"Yeah, I've seen pictures. Hey girl."

Bisou is delighted; Jeff's mildly alarmed. "Pictures, huh?"

Jensen seems to recognize the gaffe, because he stands up and dusts his hands on his jeans. He pinks up in a way that makes Jeff want to strip him naked, hold him down and embarrass him over and over, just to see the flush rise. "Your mom sends my mom pictures."

"Right," Jeff says, still stuck on naked.

"Anyway, thanks for letting me crash, man. It's cool of you."

"No problem." He waves a hand at the living room. "Couch is all yours. Kitchen's through there."

Jensen nods, hoisting his bag up and following Jeff. "You don't have to entertain me or anything. I'll try and stay out of your way."

"UCLA's a good school. I went there."

"Yeah," Jensen says, and he's pink again. Jeff's underwear is too tight. "I don't mean to sound like a creepy stalker or anything, but I know." He shrugs. "Moms."

Jeff smirks. "Yeah."

"It's kind of weird, knowing someone but not knowing them, right?"

"Right." Before five minutes ago Jeff wouldn't have been able to pick Jensen out of a line-up. He intends to make up for lost time. "So," he says. "Any plans for the weekend?"

"Uh." They're in the kitchen, so Jeff gets a beer out of the fridge. He offers it to Jensen, who looks at it, then up at Jeff, then back down at the beer. "Sure, thanks." He cracks it open before Jeff remembers that he's probably under twenty-one. Also, it's not even noon. Maybe his mom's right to be worried. "There's a campus tour tomorrow, but other than that, I figured I'd just, like, walk around."

"Check out frat row, maybe hit a party or two?"

Jensen huffs a laugh. "Sure, totally."

"Not your scene?"

"Not so much."

"Well, don't tell your mom I gave you a beer."

Jensen smiles. "Cross my heart."

They head back into the living room. "So no frat parties. Is there anything in LA you want to see? We got museums." Jeff's pretty sure there are at least a couple; he'd have to look that up, though. "Movie stars. Traffic."

Jensen drinks his beer. "Actually," he says in a small voice, and when he looks up through his lashes Jeff's heart skips a beat. Seriously, he's so fucking pretty. "Thought I'd check out West Hollywood."

Jeff turns his gaze on the carpet. He quickly flips through the possible interpretations of that statement, and then lands on an image of Jensen in skin-tight jeans, cutting a swathe through the glitter-bedaubed old queens on Santa Monica.

Jensen is nothing short of jailbait and he's dangling right in Jeff's lap. Oh lord.

"But I mean," Jensen says, and he's starting to fidget. "I can do that on my own. There's probably a bus--"

Jeff says, "There's a lot of clubs in West Hollywood. Maybe a couple who wouldn't check IDs. If you want, we can head down there tonight."

"Seriously?"

"I know the doorman at Eleven," Jeff says, and shrugs. He leaves it there; Jensen will either get it or he won't. And the doorman at Eleven, while willing to drop to his knees on occasion, is a notorious bitch. Jeff can't wait to see the look on his face.

  
*

  
The shower had run for at least half an hour; Jeff doubts there's any hot water left. He decides not to shave. Jensen comes into the living room, bringing with him a waft of Axe or Old Spice or something equally noxious. His hair is stiff with way too much gel and his shirt is like, two sizes too big. Jeff's heart expands; he remembers being this young.

Jensen's shifting minutely from one foot to another like a kid going to his first high school dance. Jeff supposes he should feel bad about taking him into the lion's den, and he spares a second to realize that he doesn't. Like he said, he remembers being that young.

"You ready?" Jensen asks and Jeff stands up, crossing over.

"Listen," he says, and makes a gesture, like a half-aborted caress. "This place we're going? They'll peg you as a minor if you go in dressed like that. Mind if I give you a few tips?"

Jensen's eyes are huge as Jeff takes a step closer. He can see when Jensen swallows.

"...Sure," Jensen says.

They go into the bathroom and Jeff seats him on the lid of the toilet. He wets a towel to rub some of the product out of Jensen's hair.

He says, "It's not a big deal, you know?" He rubs the towel through Jensen's hair, following it up with his fingers, coaxing the strands out of their stiff posture. "You don't have to try so hard."

Jensen tilts his head back into Jeff's hands and looks him in the eye. "Okay."

When he's satisfied that Jensen looks less like a prom date and more like he's just rolled out of bed, he steps back. There's a snap, not so much heard as felt, and it's tension. Jensen's looking up at him with trust and maybe a little something else. There's a stirring in his chest and he wants to call it protectiveness.

"Come on," he says. "Let's see what else you brought with you to wear."

*

"What can I get you, sweetie?" says the bartender. Jeff thinks his name is Steve. He's the one who never wears a shirt.

Jeff looks at Jensen, who says, "Um, rum and coke?" Steve nods.

"Beer," says Jeff. He's driving. The bouncer had given them looks, but hadn't carded Jensen. Jeff is feeling good; he'd like to believe it's because he's being a good samaritan, showing Jensen around, but it probably has more to do with the look of envy he got from the bouncer.

They get their drinks and Jeff leads them to the back of the dance floor where they can hear each other's conversation and still have a decent view. Jensen's drinking his rum and coke through a straw, eyes never settling in one place for long. He's bopping his head along with the beat, one foot tapping on the floor. "This is awesome," he says, and Jeff kind of agrees.

He's looking at his world through new eyes. Jensen's eyes, which are wide and excited. From this perspective, Jeff reckons it's not so bad, the life he's got set up. Hell, if he'd known where he'd be now, back when he was eighteen, he might have been a little more enthusiastic. As it is, he realizes he's jaded. This place and this town, they seem so tawdry. So boring. At least, they had until tonight.

"Yeah," he says. "You can dance if you want." He can tell the kid wants to.

Jensen shrugs. "Do you dance?"

Laughing, Jeff shakes his head no. "I got two left feet. But seriously, go ahead. Have a good time."

Setting his drink along the thin bar bolted to the wall, Jensen smiles. Jeff watches him dive into the middle of the crowd. It's only after the fact that he thinks he probably should have told Jensen to be safe. Some of these guys can be all hands. Jeff maybe isn't so good at being a mentor.

But then again, he recalls how, a few years ago, he'd enjoyed being right where Jensen is now, and anyone who'd told him to be careful had been nothing but an old fogey. He watches Jensen dance.

*

It's a good night. Every so often Jensen peels himself out of the crowd to tell Jeff about someone he met who acts part time, or someone else he met, who's going to cooking school and offered to make Jensen breakfast. Every time Jensen comes up for air, Jeff's got another drink waiting for him and they're both getting loud. Jeff feels loose and good.

In between times, Jeff talks with the bartenders, some of whom he knows pretty well. One or two of the go-go boys keep him company. It's like he's sending out an I'm-taken vibe, and it tractor beams cute guys right to him. Maybe he should learn how to cultivate it, act unavailable all the time. They'd be lining up.

Some time around one AM Jeff notices that Jensen's been dancing with the same guy for a while. He sits up, more alert. When the next song starts the lights flip to strobe and Jeff loses his visual. When the light sweeps the crowd again there's Jensen, making out with the guy and all but dry humping him on the dance floor.

Jeff's across the room and breaking it up before he thinks twice. "Hey, Jen, time to go," he says. He's pulling on Jensen's arm and the guy glued to his face pulls back.

"Sorry honey, we're not finished."

"Yeah," Jeff says. "You are." His hand's on the back of Jensen's neck and he's steering him toward the exit. Jensen's sweaty and flushed and he's smiling like he won the lottery.

"Oh my god, this has been the best night ever," he says. He's high on endorphins and liberation and Jeff doesn't blame him, but the kid isn't making the best choices, and Jeff hasn't forgotten that he's ultimately responsible, here.

"Glad you had fun," he says as he hands his stub to the valet.

  
*

  
On the drive home Jensen's practically vibrating in his seat, excess energy that won't wear off. "You hungry?" Jeff asks. Figures he's got to do something to help bring the kid back down to earth. "We could stop somewhere."

"No way I could eat right now. I feel more like...I don't know. Running. Base jumping, maybe."

Jeff huffs a laugh and remembers that there's a downside to being around children after all. "You go base jumping and break your neck, I'll never hear the end of it. We could go to the beach."

Jensen twists in his seat. "Seriously? That'd be so cool. I haven't seen the ocean yet. Well, except from the plane, which doesn't count."

Jeff pulls over a little ways north of the Santa Monica pier. The ferris wheel's all lit up and it casts its glow far out into the water. He follows Jensen across the road and onto the sand.

"You should come check out the pier during the day, it's pretty cool," Jeff says. Jensen's staring at the water like he isn't listening. "It's a year-round carnival."

They follow the dunes down to the harder packed beach at the edge of the waves. It's quiet, only the sound of the ocean. As they walk, Jeff sneaks glances at Jensen in profile. He's still flushed, skin glowing with the vividness of youth. His hair looks good now, slightly matted in places, blonde highlights occasionally catching reflections of the pier lights. The thoughts he's having are inappropriate.

Jensen stoops to take his shoes off; Jeff does the same. They sling them over their shoulders and head Northwest, away from the pier. Jeff can see the mountains of Topanga Canyon off in the distance, hulking shadows that make the beach seem more secluded than it is. Jensen takes the lead, wandering closer and then further away from the foamy lip of the ocean as it recedes and returns. When he looks behind them, their footprints are erased.

"This is beautiful," Jensen says. "Thanks."

Jeff turns to look at Jensen, who's smiling. "Sure," he says.

"You know," Jensen says, slowing down and then stopping. He turns to face Jeff and he looks like a kid with a secret. Jeff puts his hands in his pockets. "I used to have such a crush on you. You used to come over with your mom and I'd get so excited. I'd help my mom cook and clean all day, and then when you actually showed up, I'd get too shy and I'd hide."

Jeff doesn't know what to say. He doesn't remember much about Jensen from back then. "You were young," he says, lamely.

Jensen laughs. "Yeah. I think that's how my mom figured out I was gay, actually. The only time I'd ever bake cookies was when you were coming. It was either that, or I had a serious Mrs. Robinson complex. I think she was relieved when she figured out it was you." Jeff laughs at that. He's uncomfortable, and that makes him laugh, too. Jensen continues, "Anyway, I thought I should tell you that, because, you know. Important revelations or something."

Nodding, Jeff says, "Okay," and then, "Hey, did you used to steal my cake?"

"What?"

"Nothing, just--" Jeff stops, because there's pretty much no way to finish that sentence in a way that won't be awkward. "Nevermind."

Jensen's smiling at him quizzically. "And I should probably tell you something else," he says, taking a step closer. "I don't think the crush is over." And Jensen's kissing him, mouth open, leaning all of his weight into Jeff. Jeff catches him at the elbows, holds him upright. It takes him a second to decide what to do, and by then it's too late: he's kissing Jensen back and Jensen's holding his face in his hands, keeping him still. Jensen's enthusiastic and unpracticed and it reminds Jeff all over again of just how young he is.

He pulls back and says, "Hey. Wait a sec. Jensen--"

"Please," says Jensen, all heavy breath and open eyes. "Jeff."

And maybe he's had a few too many himself, maybe he's just a bad person, but in the face of Jensen's pleading, in the moment when he's crushed up against him, Jeff can't tell him no. All night he'd been watching Jensen move, watching him flirt and the fact of the matter is, Jeff wants him. He ducks his head and kisses Jensen back firmly, guiding his tongue, showing him how to be gentler. He nips at Jensen's bottom lip, licks his teeth. Jensen groans when Jeff threads a hand into his hair and then Jensen's hands start moving, roving all over Jeff--up his sides, down his back.

Hard knuckles are digging into Jeff's belly and his pants are unzipped and he's going with it, leading Jensen down to the sand, helping to get his pants down and Jensen's biting his neck, rucking up his shirt and Jeff's head hits the ground. He blinks up at the stars and thinks for a second about what he's doing. Misgivings well up again, one last valiant effort, before Jensen's mouth is on his cock and it's over. Jensen's tongue is licking at the head of his dick and Jeff closes his eyes. He threads a hand into Jensen's hair and bucks up into his mouth, hot and soft and so good, sucking him down, taking all of him.

"Fuck," he says, and Jensen's moaning, straddling his legs and working Jeff's pants down further, and Jeff almost loses it when Jensen starts pulling on his balls. He rolls them in his fingers while he goes all the way down again. In the distant light of the pier, Jeff can see that Jensen's cheeks are hollowed out and his eyes are closed. He looks blissed out and despite the damp and gritty sand under his ass, Jeff comes. "Shit, Jen, pull off--" he says, but it's too late. Jensen chokes a little, pulling back with surprise and then a grin as he wipes come off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Fuck," Jeff says again, breathless.

Jensen's chuckling as he buries his face in Jeff's neck, stretching himself over Jeff's body like a blanket. Jeff brings a hand up to rest on his back and turns, catching Jensen's mouth for a kiss.

"Knew you'd be like that," Jensen says, and Jeff wants to know what, exactly, he's like, but all circuits are blown. They kiss lazily for a minute, Jeff tasting himself along with rum and coke. Jensen's slowly humping Jeff's leg, like he might not be aware of it, but Jeff is. He can feel Jensen's hard-on poking him in the thigh.

"Lay back," he says and rolls them over. He keeps kissing Jensen as he undoes Jensen's jeans and works a hand underneath. He catches Jensen's moan in his mouth as his hand wraps around Jensen's dick and starts jacking him off. Jensen arches his back, stretches his neck out and the moon is shining down on his face, light catching on his cheekbones. Jeff places soft kisses on his neck, bites his ear as he works Jensen's cock hard and tight. He leans up on an elbow to watch. Jensen's hands are claws, digging into the sand and his bare toes seek purchase, too. He looks like he's trying not to move at all, with his eyes closed tightly. He's whispering Jeff's name, over and over and he's beautiful like this. Hell, he's beautiful anyway. Jeff dips down and bites at the pulse point fluttering under his jaw and finishes him off with a final twist and Jensen's coming all over Jeff's hand and himself and the beach.

They both lie there for a while, clothes undone and panting at the sky. Eventually Jensen laughs, rolls over and kisses Jeff again. "So," he says. "I think I like UCLA. It's got a good program, and the perks beat out every other school I've seen."

Jeff grins, rubbing Jensen's back. He can feel the muscles stretching over the ribs there. He works his fingers in between the knobs of spine, one by one until he reaches Jensen's ass, which he grabs, pulling Jensen over him. "Yeah?" he says. "Gonna tell your mom?"

"I'll tell her that I'm going to fulfill a childhood dream."

"Oh Jesus, just don't explain it if she asks you what that means." Jeff says, and he kisses Jensen again. [The End]


End file.
